


Like We Used To

by akiko



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety (pretty minor), Emotional Constipation, Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sappiness, Sulking, mentions of polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1764509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akiko/pseuds/akiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I get it, dude, I get that, that you stay out later in the labs or your office, whatever, man, I get it, but I just, you know, I just thought that, as your <i>boyfriend</i>–” Hermann rolled his eyes at the word, as usual (<i>‘we’re not</i> teenagers <i>anymore, Newton’</i>), and there was a warm familiarity in the gesture, like his hand on his side, and Newt’s chest <i>ached</i>, “–as your <i>boyfriend,</i>” he repeated, to reassure himself of this fact more than anything, “I assumed you’d wanna, like, spend some time with me at least...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like We Used To

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iraya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iraya/gifts).



> (Inspired by iraya's [Beatbox AU](http://iraya.tumblr.com/tagged/beatbox-au).)
> 
> I listened to A Rocket To The Moon while writing this whole thing, but mostly _Like We Used To_ (hence the title), and I tried really hard not to cry while it was on. I suck at titles and summaries, I'm sorryyy. But idk if this is angsty enough, eek.
> 
> In this AU, it's 2014, there are no Kaiju, Newt and Hermann met in uni, and they are currently 25 and 26, respectively.
> 
> This whole thing is unbeta'd, and it's late, so if there's any errors, please let me know! This is also my first time writing for Newmann, and they're my OTP, but I'm really worried they're OOC here. I hope they're not. Scratch that, I hope _everyone_ in this fic is not OOC. *hides*

Newt didn’t really mind it, at first. They were both professors, both scientists; he knew that late nights and extended hours came with the territory or something, and it was understandable, Newt understood _perfectly_.

Except this time, it was different.

Hermann was out late again, which, again, okay, _totally understandable_ – but this time, when Hermann slid into bed behind him and kissed his shoulder, there was something different. Newt wasn’t sure what, but it was there.

He rolled over, putting on a small, sleepy smile and snuggled against his boyfriend, nuzzling into his neck with a tiny hum of content.

And oh, there it was – the different ‘thing.’ He felt himself tense up, and forced himself to relax, moving his nose down to nuzzle against Hermann’s collarbone instead, but it was there again – the smell of cologne.

Hermann didn’t wear cologne.

He rolled over again, his back to Hermann. The smell of cologne seemed stuck up his nose now and he pressed his face against his pillow, burrowing into it to try and get rid of the smell.

“Newton?” Hermann sounded concerned, and Newt didn’t want him to sound concerned like that, _because it’s not like he was feeling bad for himself already–_ “Newton, what’s wrong?”

He put a hand on Newt’s side, warm and comfortable and familiar. Newt shied away from his touch, shaking his head, rubbing his nose against his pillow.

“Nothing, Hermann, it’s- it’s nothing, go back to sleep, dude,” he mumbled, trying not to sound too sulky.

“Newton,” – Newt cringed; Hermann must have noticed, damn those cute sticky-out ears – “what is it? Has something happened at work today?”

Newt snorted, moving away when Hermann tried to put a hand on his side again. “Like you’d know,” he grumbled, frowning.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermann sighed, a tinge of fondness in his exasperation.

He glanced over his shoulder, scowling up at the small frown between Hermann’s brows, the way the corners of his mouth turned down with worry. “You’re barely _here_ anymore, dude!” he complained, his normally high voice rising up another pitch. “I get it, dude, I get that, that you stay out later in the labs or your office, whatever, man, I get it, but I just, you know, I just thought that, as your _boyfriend–_ ” Hermann rolled his eyes at the word, as usual (‘ _we’re not_ teenagers _anymore, Newton_ ’), and there was a warm familiarity in the gesture, like his hand on his side, and Newt’s chest _ached_ , “–as your _boyfriend_ ,” he repeated, to reassure himself of this fact more than anything, “I assumed you’d wanna, like, spend some time with me at least, but like I said, it’s totally okay, I get it, dude, but –”

“ _Please_ get to your point, Newton,” Hermann sighed again, and there was that hint of fondness _again_ –

Newt looked away and ran his hands through his hair, tugging at his locks, frustrated. He was sitting up in bed now (he probably sat up sometime during his rant), and he looked down at Hermann, his _boyfriend_ , his boyfriend who had some other guy’s cologne on him.

“I just, I just thought that, you know, you still _like like_ me, since I am your boyfriend and all, and you’d wanna spend your free time with me and stuff, but like, you always come home late now and you got cologne on you and you didn’t this morning, because I know for a _fact_ that you don’t like wearing cologne, but you like smelling my cologne, but you don’t smell like _my_ cologne, Hermann, that’s not my cologne on you, and you were out late again tonight, and –”

“Newton,” Hermann whispered, half-sitting up and reaching out towards him again.

Newt leaned away from his hand, and refused to look at him, trying to surreptitiously rub away the tears forming in his eyes. He took a deep breath, and spoke, and was glad that his voice only cracked a little, “No, Hermann –”

“Newton, please –”

“ _No_ , Hermann –”

“– if you would just –”

“– I don’t wanna hear it, okay –”

“– listen to me for one _second_ –”

“– _Hermann_ ,” he said – shouted – whatever – turning his face towards the taller man for the briefest moment before looking away again, “just, _no_ , okay. There’s evidence all over you,” _like whoever-he-was was probably all over you,_ he thought bitterly, shaking his head and pressing his fingers to his burning-hot eyes, “don’t – don’t lie to me, dude, okay, don’t – just _don’t._ ” He threw the covers off himself and got off the bed, half-striding, half-scurrying to the door as fast as he could without looking at the other man.

“Newton –” Hermann tried to say again, but Newt cut him off.

“ _Don’t,_ Hermann,” he repeated, his voice getting screechy and raw with tears and emotions, and he put a hand on the doorframe, swallowing. He took a deep breath. “Please,” he said, softer this time. Then in a louder, firmer voice, “I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”

He could sense Hermann wanted to say something, and he tensed himself up for the incoming argument. It didn’t come. Hermann stayed silent. Newt straightened his shoulders, and walked out of the room. 

 

* * *

 

“Do you think it’s ‘cause we’ve been together too long?” Newt didn’t want to ask it, but he’d been mulling it over all night last night, and it probably showed from the bags under his eyes.

He couldn’t concentrate much on his morning classes, and just showed his students a video the whole period. He’d tried sneaking a nap in the corner of the classroom, but kept remembering the smell of cologne on Hermann, and crying in front of his students was really _not cool_ and would ruin his rep.

He rubbed his face, tiredly, as a sigh crackled through his cellphone.

“I’ve known you guys for as long as you’ve both been together and you guys were – and still are – so sappily –”

“We’re not _sappy_ , Tendo.”

 “– _sappily_ in love,” the technician ignored him, “with each other since day one.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?” He swallowed, trying not to let his voice crack again.

“No, that wasn’t a ‘yes.’ That was a ‘pull yourself together, because you’ve both been through a lot and you’re both still here.’”

“Five years is a long time,” he whispered, eyes lowering to his probably-colder-by-now spaghetti.

“Staying strong, brother,” Tendo remarked.

“Or growing apart.”

“Newt, just talk to him, alright? I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“Do I have to tell you about the cologne again?”

Someone called Tendo on the other side of the call, and when his friend spoke again, it was a little rushed, “I gotta go, sorry, Newt. Just talk to Hermann, alright? You guys will work it out.”

Newt sighed, and the call clicked to an end.

 

* * *

 

The door to the little hideaway basement studio opened, and Tendo looked up at the irregular _tap-tap-clack_ sound of footsteps and a cane walking up to him. Hermann kept his eyes to the ground.

After a pause where Tendo tried to (unsuccessfully) will Hermann to look up at him, he said, “You need to tell him.”

“I know.” The mathematician fiddled with his cane, shifting his weight to his good leg, and pressed his lips together in a frown.

“You need to tell him _soon_.”

“I _know._ ”

Tendo looked over at the others, raising his brows. Aleksis was at home today (‘to prevent Sasha from distraction’), so it was only Stacker and Sasha who’d returned his glance, before going back to their warm-ups. Tendo sighed in defeat, and put on his headphones, pressing one earpad against his ear, hands deftly operating the sound table before him. “Okay, guys, let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

Hermann had intended to tell Newton ever since he’d heard about the competition, but never quite got up the courage to. He couldn’t possibly believe Hermann was a beatboxer, firmly believing he was a stiff-upper-lip, stick-up-his-ass curmudgeonly British professor type. Newton said it was one of the things he’d always loved about Hermann, but, even after ten years of knowing the man, he still wasn’t sure what Newton said was entirely true.

The thought that Newton now also believed Hermann would actually cheat on him made his throat feel tingly and raw, like all the words he wanted to say were stuck there, forever unspoken. It made his chest feel tight and difficult to breathe. It made him want to pull Newton into a hug and press his face into his unruly hair and never let go.

He needed to tell him. But how?

 

* * *

 

They’d finished earlier this evening, to take a break the last two nights before the championships. Tendo had given him a pep talk before he left, Stacker had given him a Look (he’d been disapproving of the secret-keeping from the start), and Sasha had clapped him on the back. He’d tried not to cringe too much.

Honestly, how he became friends with such nosy people, he didn’t know.

(To be fair, they weren’t really nosy until they all became good friends. Sticking their noses into his personal life came with the territory, and it wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate their concern or their advice. It was just so _annoying_ that they knew so much about him.)

 When he entered their flat, Newton was watching telly on the couch and eating take-away. The sight was so normal, so _familiar_ , that when Hermann walked over to plant a kiss on the top of his head, out of routine, he almost forgot that Newton was still angry (or just generally not of the disposition to speak with him, or even look at him), and was taken aback when Newton turned his head away from his lips.

“You’re here early,” his boyfriend (still his boyfriend, hopefully) noted, keeping his eyes on the screen.

Hermann pursed his lips and straightened up. “I missed you,” he said simply.

Newton’s eyes flicked down to his chow mein and back up to the television. He still refused to look at Hermann. “What about your other boyfriend, then? He’s probably missing _you_.” There was a venom in his tone that was so common to their old arguments, from before they got together, before they found out they didn’t hate each other so much after all. It made his throat tingle.

He swallowed, shaking his head. “I don’t have another boyfriend.” _There’s only you. There’s only ever you._

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Newton’s shoulders slump. “Don’t lie to me, dude,” he said, voice low, dark.

“Newton,” he began, eyes on the other man’s tattooed arms. He wanted to trace his fingers along the lines, wanted that sense of familiarity back. Not this... this cold detachment. Not again.

Newton hunched in on himself, intent on his food and shoving strings of noodles into his mouth, more as a way to occupy himself than to actually fulfill his need to eat something. Hermann looked away, words refusing to surface.

He silently went into the kitchen, and ate his own take-away there. He couldn’t bear to eat on the couch, just an arm’s reach away from Newton. Not when he was like this. Not when they were like this.

(What was the best way to tell him?)

 

* * *

 

Newton slept on the couch again that night.

Hermann kept his back to Newton’s part of the bed, clutching his pillow in lieu of a warm body to embrace. He felt hollow, empty. It just wasn’t the same.

 

* * *

 

Newt had been distracted again all day. Sulking, he’d heard one of his students whisper. He’d snapped at the student. He hadn’t meant to, but he felt they’d deserved it. It wasn’t their business.

He’d holed himself up in his office again for lunch, so he wouldn’t see Hermann. Tendo had told him to talk to him, and Newt had tried, he really did, but then Hermann had _lied_ and hadn’t said anything else.

Was Hermann going to break up with him?

He’d considered it the rest of the day, definitely-not-sulking in a corner of the classroom while his students watched another video (again), letting it fester and fester and fester, until he was tense by the time he’d come home.

Would it even be his home anymore? It was originally Hermann’s, after all. He’d have to move back to America. He liked it here. He’d settled down here. He had a good life here. He didn’t want to go back to America. He’d need to quit his job and move to another city, then. But he liked his job, and his students. They’d probably throw him a kickass going-away party. Should he jokingly threaten to fail them if they didn’t? There should be a lot of booze, of course. Shots, maybe. Enough alcohol to make him forget that he’d just been dumped by the guy he’d been in love with for eight years – maybe even since they first met that day he’d been running around campus like a lost exchange student from Boston (because he was).

He was going to miss Hermann.

He didn’t want him to break up with him. He wanted to set things right. But maybe there wasn’t anything to set right? Maybe Hermann was just fed up with him already? Maybe he was finally at the end of his rope? A man can only take so much, and Newt knew he wasn’t always the most tolerable guy to be around.

He still loved him, damn it. But did Hermann still love him?

“Newton.”

Newt jumped, startled, and refocused on the space of air he’d been staring at for who-knows-how-long. He blinked, and glanced up at Hermann’s voice. He was looking at him with those damn dark brown doe eyes of his, sinfully long lashes brushing against his cheekbones. His thin-lipped froggy mouth was slightly open, probably searching for the words to say that wouldn’t be so ‘adolescent.’ What break-up didn’t sound ‘adolescent,’ really?

Newt lowered his gaze from those sticky-out ears. He was going to miss Hermann so much. His whole body tensed up again, when Hermann sucked in a breath, preparing himself.

“There’s a beatbox competition in Brixton tomorrow.”

Newt waited. He kept his eyes to the floor, hands fidgeting on his lap.

“I... Would you like to come with me?”

Newt looked up. That... wasn’t exactly a break-up thing to say. That was more of a date thing to say. _What?_

“What?”

“Would you like to come with me to the competition in Brixton?” Hermann repeated, fiddling with his cane and shifting his weight to his good leg.

“Why?” Newt frowned, completely thrown off. Wasn’t Hermann going to break up with him? He’d been so convinced just a couple seconds ago.

“I want you to understand,” Hermann said after a pause, choosing his words carefully. “And I want you to believe me.”

Newt stared at him, still frowning.

Hermann kept his gaze, a tinge of desperation in his eyes. “Please come with me, Newton.”

Newt glanced away for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts back into coherence. Hermann wasn’t going to break up with him – _very important._ Hermann wanted him to go on a date with him to this beatbox competition in... Brixton? – _also very important, but very confusing._

“Tendo will be there too,” Hermann tried.

Newt glanced back at Hermann, eyes narrowed.

_‘I want you to understand.’ ‘I want you to believe me.’ ‘Tendo will be there too.’_

What was Hermann getting at? Was Tendo his new boyfriend? That fucking _bastard_ , talking about how ‘sappily in love’ they were with each other ‘since day one’ and apparently he was the one Hermann was cheating with!? He was supposed to be his _best friend_!

“As well as the others,” Hermann added, a little hastily; probably sensing his mistake.

Newt’s brows rose up. “The ‘others’?”

“Stacker and Herc,” Hermann said, “and his son, and Miss Mori, as well as her boyfriend – the younger Becket boy – and Sasha and Aleksis too. Alison will be there too. The Wei triplets would have been there, as well, but they have a game coming up, so they’re taking a rain check.”

Newt blinked, surprised. He hadn’t seen the others since college. Was this a reunion he didn’t know about? Or a group date? Was Hermann going to show everyone his new boyfriend, that sneaky _ex-_ best friend?

But wasn’t Tendo with Alison? Was Alison okay with Hermann and Tendo being together? Fuck, what if Hermann was cheating on him with Alison _too_?

Still, he’d missed the old gang. They even had a band back then, him and Mako and Chuck and Tendo, but it didn’t really work out, since they were all still in college and Newt and Tendo were only in the UK for a short period of time. They’d all kept in touch, of course, and Newt and Tendo had even moved permanently to the UK.

It was hard to plan a reunion for all of them and their schedules, but apparently, they had one planned.

Newt sighed, shoulders slumping. “Okay.”

Hermann relaxed. There was a small smile of relief on his lips, and Newt had to look away again.

 

* * *

 

The next day was a Saturday, and the drive all the way to Brixton was a long and awkward one. Hermann tried to initiate conversation at first, but Newt only answered in monosyllables, and soon enough, Hermann gave up and silently focused on the road.

Newt didn’t want Hermann to break up with him, but Hermann _might_ ; Hermann probably _would_. But he didn’t want to stop seeing Hermann either. He was his best friend, the only person who could _really_ understand him in a way nobody else could, and Newt didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose _him_.

He rubbed at his eyes, hoping and wishing and _praying_ to whatever god was out there that Hermann wouldn’t notice he was close to tears.

 

* * *

 

Hermann was nervous. Not about the competition; he was confident in their team, they could win this. It was Newton making him nervous. He’d hoped that at the mention of their other friends, he’d relax and warm up to Hermann again, but he was still painfully detached during the whole ride.

Hermann thought he was crying, but he shook that thought away. He wasn’t _still_ dwelling on the thoughts of Hermann cheating on him, was he?

He glanced at his boyfriend (still his boyfriend; at least, he hadn’t broken up with him yet, and Hermann clung to that hope). A sinking feeling weighed on his stomach. He kept his gaze focused on the road, knuckles whitening from his tight hold on the steering wheel.

Newton had fretted earlier about his leg and if he felt well enough to drive, and it had been so much like _them_ again that Hermann almost couldn’t answer, afraid that he might spontaneously burst into tears. There was no need to worry Newton any further, so he’d swallowed down the feeling and tried his best to keep his voice even.

They could get through this. He’d wanted to explain it to him but he’d had a terrible experience of making things worse when he tried to talk about such... personal things. Newton will understand soon, and everything will be alright.

The biologist hadn’t noticed Hermann packing his parka and his pi cap earlier – if he had, he would have asked. Hermann was grateful he hadn’t. He didn’t want to have to explain when he could just _show him_.

He took a deep breath. He loosened his grip on the wheel.

Just a few more miles.

 

* * *

 

The Brixton Jamm was _packed._

Hermann scowled at all the people. He would never get used to the crowds.

“What sort of beatbox competition is this?” Newton demanded, frowning. It was the first complete sentence he’d said to Hermann (barring his worried fretting over his leg earlier), and after the awkward silence in the car, it was like a breath of brisk air.

Hermann’s shoulders relaxed, and he turned to look at Newton. “It’s the UK Beatbox Championships.”

“ _Championships_?!” Newton repeated shrilly, eyes bugging out in surprise.

Most of the people near them turned towards the noise, but Hermann ignored them, fiddling with his cane and the strap of his pack. “Quite.”

Before Newton could splutter a response, a voice boomed, “Doctor!”

The two scientists glanced up at the impressive form of Aleksis Kaidanovsky. “Ah, tiny scientist! It has been too long!” he boomed again, grinning at the pair of them before scooping Newton up into a giant bear hug, lifting him up into the air for a few brief moments.

Hermann cringed, frowning.

Once Aleksis put down Newton, who was gaping up at the man as if he’d seen a ghost, the Russian scooped Hermann into the same bear hug, careful of his leg as he lifted him up into the air as well.

Hermann was used to his giant hugs, seeing as Aleksis sometimes went with Sasha to the practices and loved greeting Hermann with them. He wore such a strong (and by strong, he didn’t mean ‘so strong that one had to recoil upon getting the faintest whiff,’ but rather ‘strong in the sense that it could last for hours’) cologne that he could always smell on Sasha.

“It is good to see you both! The others are over there! Come, tiny scientist! Good luck, Doctor!” And with that, Aleksis flung an arm around Newton’s shoulders and towwed him towards their group, assembled somewhere near the stage.

Newton glanced over his shoulder at Hermann, eyes still wide, and Hermann gave him a small smile for reassurance before Newton had to glance away again.

“Hermann! There you are!” Tendo walked over and grabbed his arm. “Stacker and Sasha are backstage, c’mon.”

 

* * *

 

It was Aleksis. It was _Aleksis_!

The Cologne Guy was _Aleksis_!

Newt wasn’t sure if this meant Hermann was one of the Kaidanovskys now; he’d always been close with the Russians. Or maybe it was just something as innocent as the hug just a few seconds ago? He could smell Aleksis’ cologne on his own shirt. His mind was reeling.

Did this mean Hermann really _wasn’t_ cheating on him? Or maybe he was leaving him to get married to the Kaidanovskys?

“Newt!”

A familiar voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked as blue-tipped dark hair entered his foveal vision. His mouth slipped into an easy grin.

“Mako!”

Soon enough he was swept up in hugs and catching up, and for those few moments, he was at ease, the conflicting thoughts of whether Hermann really had been lying to him or not forgotten for the moment.

 

* * *

 

The championships were about to start now, and he couldn’t spot Tendo, Stacker, Sasha, _or_ Hermann anywhere.

“Hey, uh,” he leaned in to whisper to Mako, “where’s –”

“Shh, Newt,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s starting.”

“But –”

“Shh!”

“Hermann –”

“The others will show up soon, now _shush_!” She gave him a look, and he immediately lowered his gaze, pouting.

Where _was_ Hermann, though?

 

* * *

 

The championships had been going on for a pretty long time now – they were on _teams_ now, for fuck’s sake! – and he _still_ hadn’t seen Hermann anywhere.

“Mako, this is serious,” he turned to her for the (tenth? twelfth? fifteenth?) umpteenth time, whisper hissing with his distress, “I need to find Hermann –”

“Facing _The Shatterdome_ , please make some noise for _Kaiju_!”

Mako shook her head and put a finger to her lips, before pointing it at the stage. Newt followed her directions, giving only the briefest of glances to who were on stage, before looking back at her.

“Seriously, I –” Newt did a double take, wide green eyes focusing on the first team just a few feet in front of him.

There, on the stage, was Stacker and Sasha, all decked out with coats and bling (the latter mostly on Sasha, rings glinting under the spotlight), and right there with them was Hermann. _His_ Hermann. With his ridiculously oversized parka, fur hood pulled back, wearing a red-and-white Ash Ketchum-like hat with a pi sign on the front, the bill shadowing his eyes and giving him a look of mystery, and _baggy cargo pants that actually fit_.

He gawked at his boyfriend, _his boyfriend who was apparently a beatboxer – what?!_

“What?!”

Mako elbowed him in the side. He squeaked, indignant, and fell silent, still goggling at the sight of his boyfriend. _His boyfriend the beatboxer_ , what the fuck.

Said boyfriend glanced over at him, and nodded, gripping his cane. There was a shyness in the gesture that Newt couldn’t wrap his head around, because _his boyfriend was a beatboxer._

He watched in a daze as the emcee counted down, and the first team, Hermann’s team, prepared themselves. Hermann stepped up first, took a deep breath, and –

Holy _shit. Hermann can beatbox!_

 

* * *

 

They won.

They won the UK Beatbox Teams Championships. All those weeks of practice _and they won_.

Hermann fiddled with his cane, shifting his weight to his good leg. He took a deep breath and walked over to the others. They were all celebrating and embracing and congratulating, and there were plans of going to a nearby bar for a few rounds. Aleksis was laughing happily – booming, as always, but laughing too. Newton was in the group, shaking hands with Sasha and Stacker and hugging Tendo (but not before eyeing him up and sighing, for some odd reason).

Hermann kept to the sides, accepting congratulations with a nod and a tight smile, eyes not quite leaving Newton. When the object of his attentions finally met his gaze and walked up to him, Hermann steeled himself.

There was nothing to be nervous about.

“You’re a kickass beatboxer and _you didn’t tell me_?” he screeched.

Hermann flinched at the volume, scowling down at him. “Newton, _really_ –”

“Why didn’t you tell me, dude?!”

Hermann deflated, all the fight for any argument he was riling up for, draining out of him. “You wouldn’t have believed me,” he said simply.

“Of course I would’ve! Well, no, yeah, I wouldn’t have, you’re right about that, _but still_ –”

Hermann raised an eyebrow.

“Look, just, let me just get one thing straight – you’re not cheating on me?”

Hermann smiled, and shook his head, voice soft, “Of course not, love.”

“I checked with Aleksis and Sasha – that was embarrassing.”

 _Ah._ That would explain the laughter.

“So, like... you’re not gonna break up with me?”

Hermann blinked at him. Newton fidgeted and broke his gaze. “Newton – Newton, darling, of course not.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” he mumbled.

Hermann reached out to place a hand on his side, the gesture so familiar, it was almost automatic. Newton didn’t pull away this time.

“I am sure.” He sighed, squeezing Newton’s side and stepping closer, lowering his voice. “I apologize for frequently staying out so late and keeping my... recreational activities a secret to you.”

“Don’t worry about it –”

“I should have texted you, at least. I should have told you from the start –”

“Yeah, you should’ve.”

A chuckle burst out of him, at that. Newton smiled, and touched his coat, running his fingers on the fabric.

“I missed you,” he said, a hint of sadness and guilt in his tone.

Hermann tucked Newton's chin between his thumb and forefinger, lightly directing Newton’s gaze up to his. “I missed you too, you know.”

“Are you sure?” he joked, grinning.

Hermann rolled his eyes, and bent down for a brief kiss. “No more secrets.”

“But where would be the fun in that?” Newton whispered back.

Hermann sighed, a familiar hint of fondness in his exasperation, and Newton leaned in to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> The UK Beatbox Championship is a real thing. Also, I am terrible at endings, and I am very sorry.
> 
> Concrit would be much appreciated. <3


End file.
